


Better late than never

by tsworks



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Irrelevant Gift Exchange, eabevella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsworks/pseuds/tsworks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harold Finch huffed in annoyance at the lights before he turned around and acquired a dumbfounded expression at the gun Reese still had pointed at him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better late than never

**Author's Note:**

> This is my gift to Eabevella for the Irrelevant Gift Exchange 2013. Happy (belated) Christmas!;)
> 
> This is my very first finished fanfiction, first published one and my first work on this site. I'm trying to get back into writing and this was really fun, so I hope I nailed the characters, but I can't really judge that on my own;)
> 
> Enjoy!

John Reese brushed snow of his shoulders before he rummaged through his pockets for the key. He unlocked the door to his apartment and turned the door handle, looking forward to finally being home and able to relax, however the very moment he started to open the door he realized something was wrong. The light and scent of the apartment felt different, and the very air itself seemed off. He carefully reached for the gun he always kept at the back of his trousers and ever so slowly, and silently, slid in through the door. John walked beneath the steps of the stairs and into the main room where he stopped in his tracks and silently gawked at the sight that greeted him. 

Instead of the usual white light cast from his lamps the apartment was filled with the warm glow cast by real candles stationed at various points in the main room. Some of them he was sure was scented. All the tables had gotten a red tablecloth and there were even a few red and plush pillows resting in his black leather sofa. Even his bed was dressed all in red. Tinsel was hanging in lazy bows from the top of his windows and down the stairs. As far as he could tell, the apartment had received a fair number of Christmas decorations as well. Nothing of it was gaudy, or overdone, but all of it was in red and gold. The overall impression was warm and cozy, and most definitely Christmas-y. 

But the thing that had stopped John Reese in his tracks was the great green spruce placed in front of his large windows and stuck in-between his desk and sofa group. It was possibly the largest Christmas tree he had ever seen indoors, at least outside of official and public buildings. Standing in front of the tree was a man in a bespoke suit, the jacket belonging to it hung over the sofa and his shirt sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows. He was holding a tangled mess of Christmas lights, struggling to solve the intricate knots in the chain. On the floor by his feet were several smallish boxes of what appeared to be decorations for the tree. By the amount John estimated that the tree would barely show beneath it all when they were all finally hung up.

Harold Finch huffed in annoyance at the lights before he turned around and acquired a dumbfounded expression at the gun Reese still had pointed at him. Realizing what he was actually doing, John picket up his jaw from the floor and deposited the gun on his kitchen table. There was no point in returning it to the waist of his pants as he would anyway take it out soon in order to clean it. Seeing him put away the weapon visibly put Finch at ease again, and he gave Reese a barely noticeable, but clearly pleased nod. 

"Ah, Mr. Reese, I did not expect you to return so soon. I had hoped I would have finished with the tree at least before you came back," Finch stated before facing towards the tree again and devoting his attention back to untangling the chain. John walked over and stood next to Finch, staring up at the huge tree in front of him. How on earth had Finch even gotten the tree inside?  
"Finch, I think you need to enlighten me," he said, turning towards his boss. It was not that he didn't appreciate the amount of work the man obviously had put into the decorating, he simply was confused as to the reason why his reclusive billionaire benefactor would sneak in to his apartment and turn it into Christmasville. Finch stopped tugging at the chain and stared into the empty air and cleared his throat before responding. 

"It occurred to me that neither one of us has much family left to celebrate the holidays with, and besides our line of business do require some level of privacy..." Finch's voice had started out confident, but grew uncertain until it just trailed off. Reese kept looking at him, waiting for him to finish once he had gathered his words again. The wait was interrupted by a cold wet nose stuck into his hand. He smiled as he looked down at Bear. It was good to know that when Finch was there, the attack dog was never far away. The large dog looked thoroughly happy as he reached down to pat him on his head. The tail made a tapping sound on the wooden floor as the Malinois expressed his joy. He looked up again and saw that Harold had turned to face him, his expression somber.

"Earlier years I would have celebrated with the Ingrams, but after Will grew older and Nathan's divorce and death, I have spent the holidays alone. I simply thought that we could perhaps share each other's company this time," he admitted, and as an afterthought he added: "If you would like to, that is." Reese could tell he was anxious that he might have crossed some boundaries. Finch was after all a very private person and it did in some ways extend both ways in their relationship. Finch seemed to be simultaneously worried that he had infringed on Reese and at the same time having shared too much of his own personal life. The result was a very forlorn looking man. It somehow reminded Reese of a kicked puppy. 

"Of course, I would be happy to," he told Finch. The relief he could see on the other man's face made it worth enduring the explosion of decorations in his apartment. After all, Christmas was only once a year, which reminded him.

"But, Harold, it is nearly February now." He raised a brow, indicating the unspoken question in his statement. Finch gave him a slightly sheepish look and cleared his throat before answering:  
"Yes, I'm aware. It just seems that we're always otherwise engaged during the actual holiday. The first year of our enterprise you spent recovering from your encounter with Agent Snow and the second year you spent incarcerated-"

"And this last Christmas I tried to run away," Reese interrupted. He still felt some lingering guilt after having given up on the numbers, and as such having given up on Finch.

"Don't be ridiculous, you were grieving. We all were. We simply just suffered from a short-lived difference in opinion. However, now seems as good a time as ever to celebrate."

"There's no time like the present?" He asked as he gave Finch one of his trademark smirks. It dawned on him that he still had his coat on, so he slipped it of his shoulders and walked into to hallway to put it in the closet before returning to the billionaire's side. 

"Exactly," Finch said, sending Reese of of his own small and rare smiles. He tugged at the chain still in his hands and finally managed to straighten out the cord with all the lights pooling neatly at his feet. He looked between the chain and the tree, his face taking on a thoughtful look. 

"Would you perhaps mind helping me with the chain? Climbing chairs and ladders really isn't my forté," he admitted to Reese. Once again he was left wondering how Finch had gotten the spruce in by himself. He should check his surveillance tapes later when Finch left, but knowing his employer the tapes were probably blank and the mystery kept intact.

"Sure," he said. He walked over to his closet, or armory, as Finch would most likely call it, and retrieved the stepladder. He carried it over to the tree, folded it out and took the cord away from the reclusive. He climbed up the steps and started to fasten the chain on the tree, Finch standing below him and holding one end as they wound the lights around the great green plant. When they finished Reese plugged the lights in the socket and all the tiny little bulbs began to glow softly. It almost looked like they had thrown a piece of the starry sky on to the tree. Reese went up the steps again and Finch pulled over one of the boxes with decorations and handed him one by one so that the ex-op could decorate the top of the spruce. 

"I was thinking," said Finch, "if it was fine with you, we could have a Christmas diner. Invite over Detective Fusco, Miss Morgan, Miss Shaw and even perhaps Mr. Tao. I didn't want to take the liberty of inviting them without asking first, as this after all is your home." John hung up a globe of golden glass and considered the question. He tried to picture the group of people they normally associated with, tried to see them all sitting around the table in his apartment. Apart from Finch, the only other person he had brought intp his home was Maxine Angelis, but she had been a number. He thought of Lionel talking about a home he had never been invited to. Would it be so wrong to invite them all over? What secrets they all had left between them, they all respected each other enough not to pry into.

"That would actually be nice," he admitted, "but we better make large portions if we are inviting Shaw. She eats like it was the meaning of life." He had more than once been astonished by her eating habits after a solving a number, or during for that matter. He actually rather liked that habit of hers, it was a reminder that she wasn't always the cold and unfeeling operative.

"I'll make sure to double the recipes just to make sure," Finch said with a humorous snort. Shaw's manners around the dinner table still managed to horrify the well-behaved man in his three-piece suits and custom for fine dining. They continued to work in silence, covering the branches piece by piece. The decorations Harold had brought was an array of glass bulbs formed like globes, stars, cones and icicles. It was maybe the most expensive and delicate Christmas decorations he had ever seen, and it was certainly not something you would use in a home with children.  
It took a surprisingly short amount of time to empty all the boxes, and as Reese had suspected the tree had almost completely disappeared underneath it all. He folded up the stepladder and put it away. Reese and Finch took a moment to admire their work, the tree glittering and glimmering, casting soft lights and soft shadows around the room. 

"Thank you, Harold," Reese said to the man beside him. He felt happy as he looked at the spruce and he didn't think he could have kept the smile away from his face even if he had wanted to. It was in a way magical, like that first time he had walked into the apartment given to him on his birthday, and that content feeling he had felt as he looked out the window of his new home. Neither one of them might have much blood relatives left, but they still had formed a family of friends. Finch lifted a hand and adjusted his glasses, the lights from the tree reflected in them. He smiled back at the taller man.

"Merry Christmas, John," he told his friend.


End file.
